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3/8/05 The In Crowd
Hey It's been a while since last issue, what's been up with Bill? Well, to quote Aunt Bea, a lot's happened since Dewey took Manila. And that in crowd shit at the top isn't meant to be smug, it's meant to be mocking. Those mother fuckers don't have a clue who they're welcoming in. But they'll learn . . . Let's start with the mail bag, cos when I don't, I usually forget to. And let me say, for some reason I'm having trouble getting e-mails through to people with aol accounts, I don't know what the fuck's up with that. I've gotten some positive letters regarding my recent attempt to put Loretta and her doin's behind me, to off set the rather negative slant most of the earlier correspondence took- with one noticeable exception, you know who you are, sweetheart, and thank you. I got a very lovely and touching letter from my dear friend Jean, who said she actually cried reading some of that stuff. Jean has struggled with the forgiving thing herself for a while- and as she so rightly noted, "forgiveness is a waxing and waning beast", ain't it the fucking truth- but if a wholly and bone deeply embittered fuck like Bill can try, it gives her the impetus to carry on as well. Hey, it's my pleasure, dear heart, I'm here to serve. Let's get together soon and have some of that sweet and nasty stuff they sell at Books A Million and call coffee, okay? Also got a letter from Ron saying he WOULD cross the street to piss on Loretta, not so much from ill will, but just so he could say he did it, since no one else would. You make a good point, Ron. Have a new reader in local radio personality (and accomplished musician, I bet he even knows those chords that have numbers after them) Jim Lange, he hosts EcleTopia on Public Radio Sunday nights from 9:30 to midnight- I think, I only get to hear it when I'm somewhere else on Sunday nights, as radio waves can't make it into this dank and lonely hollow where I dwell, unless it be Jack broadcasting station CRZY from out of the pump house. Here's to ya, Jimbo. As for Jack, he's gonna be broadcasting from six feet under, he don't do something soon about getting my heater fixed, cussing it isn't working any more, and by God, if I have to be cold, he's gonna be cold too, and his, you won't be able to fix by calling the heater man, you'll have to talk to Jesus (who I'm currently drunk as, by the way). There was something else I wanted to address letter wise, but it's slipped my pea mind, if I remember it later I'll address it then, if not, tough tits Tubby. Oh yeah, shit, I remember now. I got this real long letter from that girl who did that detailed horoscope of me- a couple years ago, now? I don't know, it's been a while- she's now into auras and she says I have a very powerful one and she can read it just from the photos of me that have been in this thing. What's so fucking weird is that she says the same thing everyone else has said about my aura, she makes the third aura person who's looked at me- four if you count poor goofy Michelle- sweet as she could be, but goofy as a box of rocks- from CCIL who said she could read auras, she'd say "You'd better be careful around Bill today, I can tell by his aura he's in a bad mood", everybody else there'd be like, "We could tell by how he said 'Fuck you' when he came in the door", boy I miss that place not at all. It was a JOB, for fuck's sake. Met some nice people working there, though.
It's a fact that I can't wear a watch- they either stop, or run fast, but they won't keep the right time on my wrist- and I can screw up all kinds of electronic shit just by getting near it. Joe and I joke about it, but we both know it's true. And my body temperature runs higher than you humans, and my blood (and other bodily fluids) is saltier than yours. All proof, I say, that I'm some type of higher being. Or some type something, anyway. I'm hoping to eventually develop lighting powers, like Lightning Lad- of course it better happen soon or else I'll be Lightning Old Man- then I can go off and fight The Super Moby Dick of Space- not the regular one, mind you, the SUPER one- just like he did. Of course, he lost his arm in the fight, but he got this way cool retro future looking metal one to replace it, that'd be okay. He also later knocked up Saturn Girl, and that would be way okay. Speaking of watches, Al asked me the other morning what time we were meeting Robby for breakfast (about 30 times, he asked me) I tell him 9:30, he looks at his watch- A: That can't be right, it's ten minutes to three now. Al's been better lately, but not good, except the other night, he sat and worked his crossword puzzles calmly and quietly, about the only thing he said all night was when he raised his head once, looked around the room, muttered "Damn talking pumpkin", and went back to his crosswords. My Dad hasn't been amusing much lately at all. I did revise "Martinsburg is Hell", dropped some stuff and cherry picked some other things my Dad has done, like Toosle Grek, and sent it to this WV Writer's contest. If it doesn't win, the damn thing's fixed, I'm telling you. The scriptwriting continues, I've already told some of you this so its old news to you, but so far I've written 130 pages for what will eventually be a 70 page shooting script- and it's about half done. Lots of work, but this movie is going to be damn good, you wait and see. Leaving for Prague Thursday the 18th, I'll be back Friday the 25th. Pretty much my only expense up front is for the plane ticket, plus whatever I spend over there on beer and Czech floozies. Since we'll be filming some DF stuff there, once we get our film money together I'll get reimbursed some from that, same with the Tanzania trip in May, very neat stuff coming up for our boy Bill, I have to say. (AND ABOUT DAMN TIME). Amen to that. Sure as fuck beats being trapped in a car at the bottom of some river sucking muddy ice water into my lungs. (AND AMEN TO THAT). What I'm hearing now is that I'll definitely be doing a spot in one of Rudi's films while I'm in Prague, playing a Mossad agent (good thing I'm circumcised), Rudi's gonna reciprocate by playing this rabbi type fuck in the DF stuff we're filming over there. I just hope I get to kill somebody. Or, failing that, I hope my movie character gets to kill somebody. Ha. The girls will be in for their Spring Break the 26th through the 2nd, I'm more damn excited by that than I am about my travels. Consider that in the 230 days since they left here last summer, they've been back for a grand total of 11. Yeah, that works out to twice a month- if you're living on fucking Jupiter. My sweetie pies haven't exactly been on their best behavior lately, they're both in for some serious talking to's by their Daddy, and that's all I'm gonna say about that for now. We're still going to have a great week, I'm sure. What are we going to do that week they're in? Whatever we want to, gosh! Been doing that boring cleaning thing I've been threatening to do, taking down blinds and scrubbing them, washing all the drapes and windows, that kind of shit. It's good for my head bone, though, very relaxing. I've also since the first of the year been cataloging all my comics, finally done with that job, all 7000 of them (yes, I know, that's insane). I'm missing some, but I'll be damned if I know where they're at, not still at the old house, at least I don't think I left any, or at my parents, or here, I also found a bunch of my paperbacks and SF magazines missing when I cataloged them right after I moved in here. So, I don’t know. Going through those old comics was quite the nostalgic event for Bill, since I can remember where I was at when I read practically each one of the 7000 fuckers. Sarah says that's why I shouldn't get rid of them, but it's exactly why I want and need to, those days are done and I really don’t want to remember them, at least the ones from '79- '89, the ones I got as a kid I'm still good with. The spring and summer after they got married Joe and Laura would come over to Loretta's and my trailer on Friday nights (none of us had two nickels to rub together at the time) and Joe and I'd drink beer and we'd all read comics, passing them around like a bunch of geeks, and talking about them, "How 'bout that Captain America, huh, he's sure in a pickle this time" and stuff like that. Sounds like nerd central, but it was really enjoyable, or at least I remember it that way, Loretta probably has a different slant. Although we'd really go to town after Joe and Laura went home, tearing it up in the bedroom, playing Batman versus Catwoman, or Iron Man Versus The Black Widow or, my personal favorite, Giant Man Versus Shanna, Queen of The Jungle. Goodness. And take that. I'm seriously looking to sell all my comics, the ideal would be for someone to just buy the lot of 'em, but it would cost a ton, so I don’t really see that happening, I'm sending Joe the list and he can make an url and anyone interested (I'm talking to you Dex, this is what you said you've been waiting for) can see what I've got and make me an offer on as little or as much as you want. I'm not looking to sell them for the bucks, although I can certainly use them, I'm more looking to get rid of all my stuff. I held on to the illusion after the divorce that I could and would still have a house and home and family, but I've come to the conclusion that that's all over for me- although I keep having these dreams that are driving me fucking nuts. I'm at the point now where I'd just like to get rid of everything I own, even stuff that at one time meant a LOT to me, like all my books and guitars and stuff, that don’t mean a goddamn thing to me anymore, just get it down to pretty much the clothes on my back. I see it happening, I really do. What's Bill drinking? Well, beer, dammit, and once again, lots of it. I'm drinking more than I'm happy with right now, and I'm not exactly sure why (which is one of the reasons I'm unhappy with it). Don't feel particularly unhappy lately, although a couple people have told me I seem like I am, don't feel particularly ANYTHING to be honest, I just end up drinking a lot lately for no reason, and I keep saying I'm gonna quit doing that, but I don't. Quit, that is. So fuck me, I guess.
Also read "Road to Purgatory", the sequel to "Road To Perdition", the writing is pretty good, but I've never been able to get into supposedly realistic heroes who kill dozens of bad guys at a time without sustaining a scratch themselves, and some graphic novels, a Flash (very underrated hero, I think he's great) one that was really good, and this manga version of Batman, which was also good, but Batman looks real fucking weird drawn in that style.
I'm back to working out hard again myself, and after my two month sore hand imposed break, it's been fucking brutal. I don't want to talk about it. Watched "The Hitchhiker" the other night down at Al's when I couldn't sleep, it's got Rutger Hauer in it, started out like it was going to be good but quickly went to shit, I watched it anyway cos there was nothing else on, but I wouldn't recommend it.
In wrestling news, Danny and family and I went up to Glenville Saturday the 12th to meet genuine legend Dusty Rhodes- Joe has a photo to include- and talk to him about being in the DF movie. We weren't able to get pounded drunk with him- didn’t stop me and Danny, however- cos the promoter, that fucking Arpin, who I've never been able to get along with anyway, wanted to monopolize all of Dusty's time, and considering it was his $1500 that got Dusty there I suppose he had a point. Didn't stop me from drunkenly calling Arpin a "fat stupid fuck hole" which, amazingly enough, didn't improve the situation much. Arpin was already pissed at me for unmasking El Fandango (one of Arpin's "boys") at the XMCW show the week before, said I didn't have his permission. Say what? Arpin IS a fat stupid fuck hole. It was Fandango's idea in the first place, but he told Arpin it was mine, he came up to me later and apologized, said Arpin told him if he was in on it he was "expended"- Fandango's not the brightest light under that mask- so he told Arpin it was all me. That's fine, although it may cost the DF, as well as the Grapes, our Tri-state bookings. Speaking of bookings, the Grapes of Wrath are already booked for shows this summer at the Regatta, St. Albans Riverfest, and the Cherry River Festival in Richwood August 7. Cool. Be there.
We had a good time at the show, I also met Jeff Jarrett who was, contrary to what I'd heard, also a very nice guy. Or maybe he just recognized me as another member of the in crowd. Robin's kid Tristan won the 50/50 drawing, which came to over a hundred bucks, so like the good stepdad that he is, Danny made Tristan buy him and me a 12 pack each for the ride home out of it. Had a Movie Club up at Chris's this past Friday night, Ron and Deb were also there, we watched more Zatoichi, and more Fireball XL-5, we saved the Kurosawa for when you can make it, Anita. I didn't drink a lot cos I had to work Saturday night, but I drank some good stuff, a Sam Smith's IPA, and a couple Old Peculiars, and some okay stuff, this Morimoto Soba Ale, it was okay but not worth the over five bucks for less than a quart that I paid for it, and some bad stuff, we all three combined to down one of those horrid sweet Belgian abominations (which would make a good name for a wrestler, "And in this corner, all the way from Brussels . . . "). I also drank sake for the first time. It was okay, but about three double shot glasses was enough for me, it's nothing I could ever get hammered on. I thought it tasted a lot like vodka, although not as sharp, not being as strong. It also had this odd after taste that I guess is what sake tastes like, it wasn't bad, but it wasn't anything I'd walk across the street to piss on Loretta, either. Anita wasn’t there because she was in Columbus getting laser beams shot into her eyes, she had Lasik surgery done Friday, I talked to her Saturday and she was very happy with the results, good for you, dear, I guess that school marm look is a thing of the past, huh? Chris is doing some traveling himself, he and Deb are going to Okinawa next week for some more intense karate work outs, he's going to have lots of time to travel here soon, as this week is his last at the Tech Center after 18 years. Unemployment's great, man, you're gonna love it. My brother in law Tim is also getting laid off the end of this month at the job he's held for the past 8 years. But the economy is doing just fine, boys and girls, just ask your President. And Chris, being a man after my own heart, knowing he's gonna be out of a job soon, went out and bought himself something. I promised I wouldn’t say what it was, but if you ever see me coming with it, run like hell. Nikita Koloff died for somebody's sins, but not mine. Got an e-mail last week from Buzzsaw Brian "I don't need no stinking spell check" Jones, asking me if I'd be willing to work a show in "hunnington" Saturday the 5th for a "youth minasry". He said "I need good workers who can put on a safe show for kids and other folks". And he's asking the DEATH FALCON? Holy shit. My karma being what it is, I would've done it anyway, but yet another old time icon, Nikita Koloff, The Russian Nightmare, was going to be there preaching after the matches, I figured he'd be cool to meet. It turned out to be a good time, the show was well run- bell time was set for 7, and by God, bell time was AT 7, that NEVER happens, there were 150 people there easy, and they were a hot crowd, the DF got great heat without a single obscene gesture or word (which aren't safe for kids and other folks). Brian and I had an easy, old school type match, we just called it out there, at the end I put his little ass over cos Nikita wanted all the faces to win- I guess there's a moral there somewhere. Nikita was nice enough, but a little too glazed eyed into Jesus to be any fun, no matter what you tried to talk to him about- not just me, everyone in the back had the same problem- all he wanted to talk about was Jesus. Which is fair enough, but I wanted to hear old wrestling stories. Like about The Risky Bidness Boys. Nikita came out at the end of the final match, this very bizarre thing between George South and some kid, where Jesus is willing to go through a table for you- I'm not making this up- and preached for a while, it wasn't bad, but kind of disconcerting, sort of like the Death Falcon doing a speech about abstinence. George South did a little preaching of his own, at one point he said, "If I get hit by a drunk driver on my way home tonight and I get killed, I know where I'm going. Do you know where you're gonna go?" I'm thinking, "Yeah, I'm going to jail, cos I'll be the fucker that hit ya." And I looked over at Joe and could tell the EXACT same thought was going through his mind. I also got a good pay day out of the thing, which I wasn't expecting at
all, I was willing to work for free but they insisted, nice folks that
they be. People been after me for more funny stories, not much funny has happened lately In fact, all the beer (I've been drinking since most of you were still at "work"- LOSERS) is catching up to me, I think I'm going to shut it down and go to bed, maybe a funny story next time. Or maybe not. Anything you want to say before we go? (LIVE FAST. OR DIE SLOW.) Well said. Will you still love me tomorrow? Later. Bill
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I'm in with the in crowd 
Anyway, what she says is that I have a very strange aura- go figure-
very bright, and electric blue. A normal, healthy person's is supposed to
be a soft, pearl like color. It almost makes me think there might be
something to this aura shit, three people, years apart and with absolutely
no contact between them, have all said I not only have a different aura-
that I figure is pretty much a given- but they've all described it exactly
the same way, not even just blue, they've all three said "electric
blue". Pretty fucking odd.
What's Bill been reading? Lots, actually, went to the library week
before last, got this book on the Braxton County Monster, it started out
pretty interesting- and I don't know what it was those people saw, but I
do believe they saw it- but then it went off into that UFO crazy talk so
many of these books do, this guy- wait, let me find his name, Frank C.
Feschino, Jr., junior numbfuck if you ask me- says the Braxton County
Monster crashed in Braxton County as the result of this huge air battle
between USAF jets and flying saucers that took place over the Atlantic
Ocean that afternoon, resulting in the loss of dozens of F- 86's and F-
94's. What evidence does Mister Crazy UFO book writer base this on? As far
as I could tell, nothing, maybe he saw it in a fucking dream, but I got
irritated with him fairly quickly and broke my own cardinal rule and
didn't finish the book, in fact it's still lying on the floor in my
bedroom where it dropped after I threw it against the wall.
As everyone knows, or should know by now, Batman has always been one of
my favorites (and not just cos he/I used to roll around in the hay with
"Catwoman"), and what I love most about him- the real Batman,
not the fucking imposter that you often see in movies- besides the fact
that he's nuts, is that he's totally self made. Totally. That's where this
new Batman Begins misses the whole goddamn point, he didn't need no
fucking sensei, or mentor, or Tibetan yak fucker to show him the way,
Batman made his own fucking self. Not an alien or a mutant or a mutate,
he's not from Krypton or Thanagar or Mars, he didn't get hit by lightning,
or handed some power ring by this dying alien cop, he was just a pissed
off kid who by sheer force of will says "I WILL BE the smartest,
toughest, baddest mother fucker a human can possibly be"- and then he
made it happen. Goes toe to toe with super beings without a single super
power of his own and beats the living dog shit out of 'em, handily. My
fucking hero.
I also watched one of the DVDs in that 3 box set that had
"Chillers" in it, "Evil Clutch". Holy cow. I've
watched incoherent movies before, but here's one to make you think you've
lost your mind. It's Italian- all the credits to folks like Paolo and
Luigi and Stefano would have given it away, even if the excruciatingly bad
dubbing didn't- about some I don't know what, vampire witch kind of thing,
who can make this big green claw come out of her- forgive me- private
parts, it's the damnedest thing you, or I anyway, ever saw, it looks like
somebody tried to cram that ridiculous bird puppet from "The Giant
Claw" up her snatch and it wouldn't quite fit, at one point some guy
in a lab coat and an old aviator's helmet and goggles just appears,
holding an ax and claiming to be the witch things Dad, and he cuts the
claw off with the axe, while it's sticking out from between her legs, but
hell, the movie's not even half over at that part. There's no skin in it,
which is just as well as the two women in it are both dogs (woof woof),
and every little bit someone gets possessed (I think) which apparently
makes you puke up chocolate milk- I'm making this sound a lot more
entertaining than it is, this movie's horrible, and not good horrible, BAD
HORRIBLE.
We still hung out with Dusty for about an hour before the show, he's
fucking hilarious, and talks just like Dusty Rhodes- and after spending a
hour with him you walk away talking like that as well. He and I got off to
a good start, while shaking his hand I asked him if he was still funky
like a monkey. Come on, you would have too- or at least wanted to. Dust
sort of rolled his eyes and muttered, "I'd hud you was like dis, but
I's hopin' you wudn't." Ha. I also asked him if he was ever gonna
reform "The Risky Bidness Boys", even he was a little chagrined
at that one, "You don’t forget nuffin' do ya?" Nope. And yeah,
he is still funky like a monkey.
Joe and I spent some of it on beer and cigars for the ride home,
if I'd gotten just a little more we'd have stopped and spent the rest at a
strip club. There's just something about spending church money on sin that
makes it that much sweeter. They asked me if they did it again would I
come back, oh, absolutely, it was a lot more fun than working XMCW, all
the church people running things were uniformly nice and helpful, it was
very refreshing.